


Not Even a Full-Time Employee

by Arriva



Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: Also Doug is there because I like Doug, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, GLaDOS is the test subject and Chell's the AI, Gen, I hope you like mean!Caroline because she is not nice, Non-Linear Narrative, One Shot Collection, Role Reversal, Seriously this is gonna hop all around the Portal timeline, That's it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-19 07:17:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22873876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arriva/pseuds/Arriva
Summary: With Cave Johnson dead and Caroline disappeared, the scientists had to find a replacement for the AI project. So they found a test subject no one would miss.It went about as well as you'd expect.
Relationships: Caroline/Cave Johnson, GLaDOS/Spite
Comments: 33
Kudos: 100





	1. Waking Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place at the very beginning of Portal!

Nobody wanted to test.

Like budget cuts and zero ethics, that was a given at Aperture Science. But nobody necessarily wanted to sign up for testing in the first place. No child grew up dreaming of becoming a test subject. No one had Aperture Science on their list of dream jobs. The people who ended up at Aperture's doors always came out of desperation. After all, it was only a few tests. They could always opt out.

Right?

...Right?

By the time the luster of a quick buck or a reduced jail sentence had worn off, test subjects realized they could not, in fact, opt out. Not that they didn't try. In fact, test subjects were far more zealous about getting _out_ than the tests themselves. Test subjects would practically attempt to tear out the wall panels trying to opt out. Then they turned to begging. Some even cried. Or mentioned family. They all said the same thing. They "didn't want to do this." They "didn't deserve to be here."

She deserved to be here.

She didn't remember much. She couldn't tell you her last name or what job she'd had before waking up in an orange jumpsuit, but the moment that cryogenic storage pod switched off, her eyes flew open and her first thought was _I deserve this_.

_I deserve to be here._

Which was probably a good thing, because waking up in a glass box with no memory would rank pretty low on a list of comforting ways to wake up. For a moment, she just lay there, living with this, living with her (assumedly terrible) life choices. She rose slowly. Her muscles ached. She looked down at her hands and saw her skin had become sickly pale. This wasn't what she looked like before. Was it?

Why couldn't she remember what she looked like?

She got out of the pod, suddenly aware of the terrible music playing on a radio next to her. Why would the scientists _do_ this? Was the prospect of certain death not enough? She picked up the radio, fumbling desperately for an off switch. Why wouldn't the damn thing switch off? "What is this? The Demotivational Music Initiative?" she muttered.

She chucked the radio at the wall, and it mercifully busted into pieces. The test hadn't even started, and she was already breaking things. 

With the room silent, something felt off. Wasn't there supposed to be an introductory speech at this part? Something about beginning the first test and a disclaimer about serious injuries and- the portal! A portal was supposed to open. 

She waited. And waited. And _waited_ \- where was the facilitator? _Was_ there a facilitator? Finally, she let out an irritated sigh and said, "Well? Is standing idly in the middle of a room a brand new test?"

Talking felt good. She couldn't control much, but she could control talking. "I suppose I could just start breaking more things," she said, picking up the mug on the side table. "Say, you don't need any of this highly expensive Aperture equipment, do you?"

The portal opened.

So talking was effective. Good. Because when she talked, she could ignore the deep-seated dread in the pit of her stomach. She could ignore the voice in her head screaming that she didn't feel like herself.

She approached the portal.

She didn't... look like herself.

The arrangement of the chamber allowed her to see her appearance through the orange portal. She couldn't remember what she looked like, but she did _not_ look like this. She didn't have gray hair, and even if she did, she wouldn't chop it into this haphazard excuse for a bob. She wasn't _this_ bony either. Her skin had a waxy, pulled back quality to it, not to mention the dark, sunken circles under her eyes. She looked simultaneously young and old. Like a poorly reanimated corpse.

If the tests didn't kill her, then her own body was probably going to do her in. She looked down at her feet. At least the Advanced Knee Replacements would keep her body somewhat intact. Only... she frowned. Something was off about her jumpsuit. She pulled at the fabric to get a closer look at the name tag above her collarbone. The name _Glados_ had been stitched into it.

Glados.

Why did that sound so familiar?

For now, that was who she was. Glados pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes and stepped through the portal. Her first portal, and she wasn't even dead yet. She supposed she should take that as an accomplishment, even if it was a remarkably underwhelming one.

She passed out of the chamber that had been keeping her in cryo and into the real test. Placing a cube on a button. She had to hand it to whoever designed Test 00. It was easy enough to generate a sense of arrogance in test subjects. If they could get through this test, surely they could get through the remaining nineteen. Surely they wouldn't die horribly. Glados may have had a few holes (or craters) in her memory, but she knew that it was only going to get exponentially worse from here.

Then she spotted something that made her blood chill.

There was no one in the observation room. Not even the outline of a person. 

There _was_ a video camera in the test chamber. Glados stared into the lens, feeling the way an ant must feel under a magnifying glass. She walked to the right, and the camera moved with her. She moved to the other side of the test chamber, and the camera did the same thing. Her gaze turned back to the observation room.

If no one was in there, who exactly was watching her?

And why weren't they saying anything?

She shot a glare into the camera. "So this is it then? I blindly fumble around for what to do and you watch?"

No response.

"Whoever you are, I _really_ enjoy your hands-off approach to instruction," she said as she picked up the cube.

She placed the cube on the button, but her thoughts were a jumbled panic. This wasn't how the tests ran. There was always another scientist observing, making note of progress. It shouldn't distract her from the test, but it did.

She stumbled into the elevator and placed a hand against the wall for support. Breathe. Focus on the information she already had. Glados straightened herself. What did she know? She knew she was in Aperture Science. Despite the gaps in her memory, she knew the technology. Which meant her memory wasn't completely blank. She had a sense of _what_ and _where_ even if her sense of _who_ was... lacking. Most importantly, she knew the tests were still running. The tests weren't designed to run by themselves.

Something was running this facility.

The elevator closed.

She just needed to find out what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! So this is not going to be a straight narrative! Each chapter can be read as its own individual story, but all these stories take place within the same AU. This fic is inspired by [this post](https://fallingthroughaperture.tumblr.com/post/113912079163/i-cant-stop-thinking-about-a-swapped-glados-and) I made on tumblr. 
> 
> I have no set length for this and no schedule in terms of updates. This is something I'm doing on my own leisure time because these games spark joy and I hope this AU sparks joy for you too!
> 
> Also because this is a nonlinear story, I'll put in the notes when each chapter takes place during the timeline. Enjoy!


	2. Waking Up But This Time, It's Personal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place during Portal 2 at the very end of the The Courtesy Call!

Somewhere between "Hello!" and "Anyone there?" Glados decided that she hated Wheatley.

She hated his annoying accent. She hated his know-it-all demeanor. Most of all, she hated how he ignored every suggestion she made. No, let's _do_ hurl the Relaxation Pod _she_ was in at the test chamber. Let's _do_ disengage from the management rail and not give her enough time to catch him. And sure, why _don't_ they go straight into the main AI chamber? Not like anything important happened there.

Not like her heart pounded as they inched closer and closer toward it.

To add insult to injury, Wheatley wouldn't stop talking the entire way. "-so then they had me on nanobot detail for awhile, but of course, _Jerry_ said I was, 'unprofessional' and 'obtuse' -whatever that means- so they put on me on human watch. Then lots of time passed, and now I'm here with you! What was your name again?"

"Glados," she replied with the same enthusiasm when she faced a roomful of neurotoxin.

"Gla-dos. _Gla_ dos. Gla... _dos._ " The imbecile proceeded to repeat her name with varying emphases, like an annoying little song. "Kind of a weird name, isn't it? Wonder what made your parents pick it out."

"I don't remember, you insipid-"

"Right! The brain damage." She'd given up on telling him no, it was not brain _damage,_ it was memory loss. Brain damage made her sound incapable of coherent thought. Although if that was the requirement for brain damage, her dim-witted companion passed with flying colors. What was even his function? Surely the scientists who built him hadn't intended to toss him around from menial job to menial job. An AI with enough programming to contain an entire personality had to do something important.

Or maybe, he was just a moron. Plain and simple.

The tunnel connecting to the main AI chamber came into view. This was it. Just one last hurdle, and Glados was free of Aperture Science forever. Only the moment they got right outside the tunnel, Glados halted. 

Wheatley looked up at her. "Are we going in?"

"I..."

A low, shaky breath escaped her lips. Her chest felt tight, like a weight was pressing down on her. This was ridiculous. She was dead. Glados killed her. There was nothing to be afraid of. And yet... she couldn't bring herself to move. Glados hated herself for being unable to take a step forward, for feeling, of all things, _scared_. But this...

This was where it all... happened.

"Actually, you're right!" Wheatley said. "Let's not go in there! I don't want to go in there!"

Then again, was she really going to be as scared as this nimrod was? Ironic how Wheatley spurred her to get moving. "What are you doing!?" he squeaked. "We can't just waltz in there! She could be- oh, nevermind she's off. She's off!"

For probably the first time in his life, Wheatley was right. Like the rest of the facility, the main AI chamber was flooded and overgrown with foliage. The air was thin with a sharp chill to it. Walking in captured the same feeling as walking into a mausoleum. Only this mausoleum held no human corpse.

They stopped at the heart of the chamber. "There she is," Wheatley murmured.

But it most definitely held a corpse.

There was CHELL.

The Compressed Hardware for Enrichment and Lab-based Live-testing. The silent AI that controlled Aperture Science with the ruthlessness of a hand choking the life out of someone. The last time they were in the same room together Glados was hurling pieces of her down an incinerator. It wasn’t anything personal, just... Glados really didn’t want to die. Now CHELL's optic was dim, lifeless. The rest of her lay in pieces across the dilapidated main AI chamber. And walking back in there, seeing what CHELL had become left Glados with an overwhelming sense of...

_Relief._

Now her only objective was getting out of here. And maybe chucking Wheatley down an elevator shaft while she was at it. Her Long Fall Boots slushed through the filthy water while the brainless excuse for a core blabbered on. "What a nasty piece of work she was, honestly. Like a proper maniac," he said. "Do you know who ended up purging her? Do you know who ended up taking her down in the end?"

"Hubris?" Glados responded.

"A- wait, what? Never heard of a 'Hubris.' He doesn't work in Manufacturing, does he?"

Was it possible for a core to make Glados _lose_ brain cells? That wasn't a joke. It was a valid concern. She needed every ounce of brainpower to get out of here. She stepped over CHELL's remains, her eyes scanning ahead. Her best way out was calling an elevator through the Aperture Science control panel, and said panel should be... _there_.

She walked past the incinerator because she clearly hadn't had enough reminders of what she'd done today. Only -Glados slowed- these _arrows_ were new. That style, scribbled and frantic, was awfully similar to the drawings back when-

"Have you been here before or something?" Wheatley piped up.

"Are the only questions you ask going to be stupid questions?" Glados said which shut the blathering little nuisance up. Lying to him would have been just as easy, but there was something so satisfying about making the blue in his optic shrink to a little pinprick. To think if Glados could intimidate him, _she_ would probably make him...

But she was dead.

Because Glados killed her.

So she wasn't going to be doing anything anytime soon.

And if Glados played her cards right, it was going to stay that way. Glados made her way down toward the main breaker room, Wheatley in tow and back to prattling incessantly about heights and where to go next. Even if she'd been a complete dolt, his so-called "help" wasn't needed. Navigating the ruins of Aperture Science was like... coming home. If home was overgrown with plants and trying to kill her in the most creative ways possible. But Glados's feet seemed to know where to go before her brain did.

"Here we are!" Wheatley announced, breaking her train of thought yet again. "The main breaker room. Probably a good time to plug me in and do all the tech-y stuff. Not the best spot for grimy human fingers-"

 _Grimy_ human fingers? That did it. Glados brought the core to eye-level. "Let me make something very clear," Glados said. "I have generously allowed you to come along with me out of sheer necessity. But contrary to your tone, we are not friends. I don't need you. Now you are going to be quiet and let me do the work that requires more than the bare minimum of brainpower. Do you understand?"

Cores couldn't cry.

But if Wheatley could, he probably would have burst into tears right about now.

"Y-yes! Very clear. Clear as quartz," he whimpered.

"Don't you mean crystal?"

"That too!"

"Good." Glados looked up at the array of red and yellow switches. She hadn't realized it would be this big. And dark. Amongst all these switches _had_ to be a light switch. She squinted and saw a switch labeled _Lights_ a few feet above her. She reached for the switch but it didn't budge. " _Why_ isn't it moving?" she muttered.

But of course, Wheatley had to interject. "Don't think it's gonna let you, love!" he said. Was he _gloating_? "So why don't you just plug me in, and I'll get us on out of here?"

As much as she hated to admit it, the little idiot may have been onto something. "If I do this," Glados narrowed her eyes, "don't. Touch. _Anything_."

"No touching! Got it."

Glados begrudgingly plugged Wheatley into the receptacle. To his very minimal credit, he didn't immediately send the facility into nuclear meltdown. "So what are we looking for exactly?" he said.

" _I'm_ looking for the switch that calls the elevator to the surface," Glados said. " _You_ are staying put until I tell you- seriously!?"

He'd switched on the lights. Less than a minute had passed by, and already he'd disobeyed her very explicit instructions. "So I know you said not to touch anything," he said sheepishly, "but it was really dark and I figured hey! No harm in turning the lights on!"

Glados could construct an entire study around her hatred for this core. Still, and it pained her deeply to admit this even to herself, the lights were... helpful. Glados scowled. Wheatley being helpful had to be an anomaly. She'd have noted that in the hypothetical study she was doing on him. She'd also note observations like _Loves the sound of his own voice. Doesn't listen to others. Intellectual capacity of a pebble-_

"Oh! How about this one?"

Glados looked down at Wheatley a second too late. " _Don't touch that_ - _!_ "

But human reflexes could never outpace the speed of artificial intelligence. The panel lurched upward in a spin, flipping far too many switches. "What did I tell you not to do?" Glados hissed.

"I can fix it!" Wheatley said. Before Glados could stop him, he keyed in a code. "This should slow it down!"

It did not slow down.

The receptacle spun upward again, this time faster and not stopping. _"Powerup initiated!"_ the prerecorded announcer chimed.

"Oh, it just made it go faster."

Glados wanted to rip Wheatley out of the receptacle and punt him until he was a little dot in the sky. "Do you have any idea what you've done!?"

"I was trying to help!" he said.

"Help? You couldn't change a lightbulb!"

"I _just_ turned on the lights!"

"You didn't just turn on the lights! You turned on-"

_"Powerup complete."_

Her.

They both froze. In her peripheral, Glados saw her massive outline. She saw that outline stretch and settle then set her gaze upon the two idiots who reactivated her. This was her nightmare during that long sleep. Only now, she turned and the entity looming over her was very real and very alive.

"Oh god, it's you," Glados whispered.

CHELL.

The most powerful thing in this facility. And they just woke her up. Good job, them.

While Glados stared slack-jawed, Wheatley scrambled to do damage control. "Okay, we've done nothing wrong! Act natural!" It wouldn't do any good. _She_ wouldn't listen to him. "Hello!" he chirped.

CHELL blinked slowly, the way someone blinks after waking up from a long, long sleep. She was enormous. Was she this enormous the last time Glados encountered her? "You- you look great," Glados stammered. "Very... alive."

"Do you twoknow each other?" an oblivious Wheatley said.

Glados would have snapped back at him, but she was really busy being petrified. Her eyes traced up CHELL's chassis. Her brain flickered between her first encounter with CHELL, the fearful awe she'd felt gazing upon that chassis, to now, looking at that same chassis, now a dirt-stained shell of what it used to be, but still able to invoke that same paralyzing fearful awe. 

Her optic narrowed in on Glados, and even though CHELL had not say a word, Glados could feel pure, unmitigated _hatred_. Glados tried to back away only to bump up against the barrier surrounding the breaker panel. So the... mandatory of shutdown of CHELL hadn't purged her memory databases. She remembered Glados. Which meant she remembered the triumphant smirk on Glados' face when she tossed her last core into the incinerator.

And -Glados thought again with sharpening fear- _they just woke her up_.

"Wait a second... you _do_ know each other!"

"Stop. Talking."

"Gotta say, I knew something was off right from the start!" Wheatley said. "Pretty much had that figured out what with all the glaring- ah!"

A claw reached down and snatched up Wheatley. Glados bolted. Or she tried to. She barely took a step when another claw descended from the ceiling, this one grabbing her around the waist. "No!" Glados twisted under the grip of the claw only to accidentally lose grip of the ASHPD. "Nononononono-! _Let go of me!_ "

But CHELL would never listen to the pleas of a mere human. Nor did she listen to the cries of Wheatley, instead smashing the little core once then twice for good measure.

Glados helplessly watched CHELL toss Wheatley aside. She'd crushed him. Annoying pest that he was, he still deserved a more dignified end.

Panic churned in her gut. CHELL had her literally in her grasp, and keeping people alive was not a strength of hers. "Listen, why don't we just call the whole thing off and pretend nothing happened? No hard feelings." CHELL stared silently at her. "I'll go to the surface and you can stay down here and do... whatever it is you do when you're not trying to kill me!"

Glados felt the claw tighten. And tighten. And _tighten_ -

"Or better yet!" she choked. "I could test!"

The claw stopped. It mercifully loosened, sparing her internal organs, but CHELL did not release her. CHELL regarded Glados, even if only in the way a shoe regards a particularly bothersome housefly. Whether CHELL would squish Glados or let her fly was currently up for debate. Was CHELL thinking of how to punish her? The best ways to prolong her suffering? Or maybe the fastest and most painful way to kill her?

There were so many painful ways to kill her.

But as CHELL's processors whirred, she gave Glados a window to the thing she did best: talk her way out. "Look. I'm the only living test subject in this entire facility," Glados said. "And if you don't believe me, you can check the Relaxation Vaults. So unless you've taken up reanimating the dead since we last saw each other, you need me."

CHELL's head tilted. Just barely. The chamber was dead silent, save for the unsteady rise and fall of Glados' chest. She hated the sound. Because it reminded her she was vulnerable. She could die, and unlike the machine before her, she could not return from the dead.

The claw holding Glados began to move. "Where- where are you taking me?" She twisted her body to see what direction she was headed and let out a choked gasp.

The incinerator.

Wasn't there some kind of poetic justice to this? Glados threw pieces of CHELL down the incinerator, and now, CHELL was throwing her very flammable body down into it. CHELL stared on, her judge, jury, and executioner. She did not gloat, but she didn't have to. Her actions said well and clear what she thought Glados deserved. Glados had always wanted to face death with dignity. But instead she pulled frantically at the claw, thinking _I don't want this, I don't want this, I DON'T WANT THIS_ -

Then she was there, over the gaping mouth of the incinerator, and she screamed, "Don't you _dare-_!"

But her protests were cut off as CHELL unceremoniously dropped Glados down the incinerator. She had only one thought as she plunged into the inferno.

_I deserve this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I actually enjoy writing Wheatley more than I thought I would?? I think I just enjoy writing idiots??
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. For the Guilty Conscience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place during The Escape!

Somehow, Wheatley had come up with an escape plan.

It wasn't a _good_ escape plan. More of borderline insane plan, especially the moment Wheatley appeared in the test chamber and started speaking in an accent beyond CHELL's range of hearing. Judging by CHELL's response, it was in fact within her range of hearing. This plan also required Glados doing most of the work. But running out of that test chamber, knowing CHELL was watching her and not being able to do anything to stop her, felt _righteously_ good _._

Now Glados tried to hold on to that feeling as she twisted through the backside of Aperture Science. The test chambers were deadly, but comfortingly deadly. This part of Aperture in comparison was the world's deadliest jungle gym. 

Her Long Fall Boots clanked down a dimly lit walkway. Her eyes darted around the walkway for signs of turrets; they'd been appearing more and more frequently, and the last set had nearly shot her in the neck. Speaking of, Glados took a moment to massage the back of her neck. All her tension pooled in that spot. She could always tell when work got too stressful because tension manifested at the back of her neck.

She didn't know why she knew that.

With a contemplative sigh, Glados blasted a blue portal. As if escaping from an omnipresent AI wasn't enough, of course she had to contend with the growing discomfort of knowing virtually nothing about how she got here and why her memory was blank. In the elevator between tests, Glados had speculated theories ranging from unlawful experimentation (why would she voluntarily get her memory erased?) to side effects from cryogenic storage. She had a working knowledge of the things that came out of Aperture Science but no idea _how_ she came to know. Her memory was like a puzzle that was missing half the pieces: useless if she couldn't see the full picture.

Ignoring this part of her brain was easier in the test chambers, where CHELL's scrutinizing gaze and Wheatley's chaotic buffoonery were enough of a distraction. But now she'd separated from Wheatley, CHELL better have no idea where she was, and that left Glados alone with nothing but the voice in her head whispering _Why? Don't you want to know? What sort of person were you to end up in this cesspool?_

Glados knew this much: good people didn't end up here.

She had just cleared a particularly life-threatening set of jumps when she leapt onto the Turret Redemption line. She allowed herself a second to look, figure out where she had to go next. The line moved slowly, and she didn't have to worry about meeting a fiery end unless she lied down and took a nap. Her eyes landed on another walkway. It'd take a couple jumps, but it was doable. She picked her way past turrets and other assorted junk, paying little regard to the turrets doomed for Redemption.

Until she heard a small, sad, "I'm different!" from down the line.

And damn it all, Glados looked back.

A turret sat helplessly on the line, no different from the other despite its claim. If she hadn't been riding the high of her escape, she would have let the little turret burn. But no, she had escaped, and unlike _some_ individuals in this facility, she just _had_ to prove she was capable of mercy. Why Glados felt the need to do so when CHELL wasn't even around to witness it would confound her later on.

And... she just really needed to her someone else's voice. Even an artificial one.

Glados picked up the little turret, who chirped a far too human "Thank you!" as she jumped off the Redemption Line then onto the walkway. She'd just find a little corner to stow the thing away in then proceed to- 

"Get mad!"

Glados stopped dead in her tracks. "...What did you say?"

There were over a million words in the English language, and as far as Glados knew, this defective turret had strung those two words together out of pure chance. So why did Glados feel like she'd heard those words before? They were important words, they _meant_ something, but what... why...

The turret itself offered no answers. Just a blank, uncaring stare.

She couldn't do this now. She couldn't afford to have an existential crisis over two innocuous words. Glados started walking again. The turret was defective, she reasoned. Simple as that. It didn't have the processing power to do anything besides shoot at moving objects. She just needed to keep moving, focus on escape, and kill CHELL minus the unfortunate-

"Don't make lemonade!"

She tried to ignore it.

She really, _really_ tried.

It was no more effective than walking off a cliff and trying to back up. Glados fell, and she fell hard. Not physically, no, physically, she stood frozen in the walkway, a suffocating mix of panic and dread keeping her rooted to that spot. But internally she fell past memories. She fell too fast to know what any of them were but knew they were _hers_ and she _wanted_ them, if only she could just reach out and take hold of _one_. Couldn't she have that? Just one memory? Don't make lemonade, don't make lemonade, don't make lemonade- but _why_? Why were those words significant? Why did hearing them make her feel like her very existence was coming to an end?

Memories flew past her in a dizzying blur. In the real world, which seemed very far away, her heart pounded and her chest grew tight. This was a chemical response, most likely post-traumatic. It wouldn't last, but if she was stuck here, she was going to remember _something_. She reached into her brain to try and pull something out. Her fingers- no, the construct of her fingers because this was all in her head, slipped and slipped on memories that dissolved through her fingers like sand.

 _Don't make lemonade_. She repeated the mantra in her head, willing herself to _remember_. What awful thing had stemmed from these words? She reached out, a barrage of withheld memories trying to keep her back, and finally, defiantly took hold of a single memory.

An onslaught of images flooded her senses.

A manicured hand on a man's shoulder.

The beep of a monitor.

Heels clacking on a walkway.

_Don't take the lemons-_

With a choked gasp, Glados was back on solid ground. The walkway was silent. She stumbled forward a step, her legs wobbly. All the while, the defective turret stared blankly. In a trembling voice, Glados managed to say, "Where... did... you hear that?"

"Atlas defied the gods, and his punishment was to carry the weight of the sky for all eternity," the turret said. "So he tricked Hercules into carrying it for him."

It then hit Glados that she was taking the words of _turret_ seriously. She'd have laughed if the situation wasn't so sad. Any AI that spouted cryptic nonsense about Greek myths clearly wasn't programmed correctly. One of the scientists probably created the thing as an ill-fated attempt at a joke. 

"I doubt Atlas knew how to shut down neurotoxin emitters," she said more to herself. That was the part of the plan that worried her the most. As she continued down the walkway, apprehension gnawed at her. She didn't trust Wheatley to open a door; how was she supposed to trust him to shut down the neurotoxin emitters? More concerning, if they failed that left Glados and her very human lungs mere yards away from the largest supply of neurotoxin within the entire facility. And what about after? With the turrets and the neurotoxin out of commission, would they be able to take down CHELL and escape?

"It won't be enough," the turret supplied so very helpfully.

This time, Glados successfully ignored it. More important things took up her headspace, like the Emancipation Grill up ahead. What did the turret know anyways? It hadn't clawed its way through acid and bullets and homicidal AIs. She was getting out of here if she had to bring down the entire facility to do it. 

"The answer is beneath us," it said.

And maybe it was the... incident from a moment ago, but something about the way it said that put Glados on edge. She stopped right before the Emancipation Grill. "Why did you say that?" Only now the defective turret remained oppressively silent. Its optic stared impassively back at her, as if to say _Who, me?_ It taunted her, teasing information or just nonsense, and it infuriated her. "You were such a chatterbox earlier. _Answer me_."

"Your name is Caroline."

It was wrong. 

It was _wrong_ , and there was nothing more she wanted to hear from it.

"And you're defective," she hissed.

Glados felt no guilt about passing through the Emancipation Grill and watching the turret disintegrate. In different circumstances, the turret would be in a test chamber shooting happily at her. If it wasn't dead now, it would assuredly be dead in some other fashion. That was just the order of things. Besides, as far as defective turrets went, this one was extremely defective. _The answer is beneath us._ Glados scoffed. How absurd.

The only answers Glados was interested in were the ones that ran up and out of this godforsaken facility.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, writing this, actively in control of where this story is going: Honey, you've got a big storm coming :)


End file.
